


Tell Me a Lie

by Lainy122



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, a magical baker, god I suck at tags, harry is a baker, louis is a prince, magical victorian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:45:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9162583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lainy122/pseuds/Lainy122
Summary: Harry has always kept his magical ability to know truth from falsehood hidden from everyone but his family, lest someone use it against him or worse, against others. But what even his family don't know is that Harry sometimes also dreams things that are true, whether they have happened yet or not. When he has a precognitive dream about the Prince of the Realm being murdered, Harry knows he must do all he can to prevent it from happening - even if it means revealing his secret and costing him his freedom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A WIP!! The reasoning behind my decision to post a story in progress, which I never ever ever do, can be found [here](http://lainy122.tumblr.com/post/155198901911/i-have-a-confession-to-make). I will attempt to update this fic as often as possible, but life tends to get in the way with stuff so chances are much more likely this will be updated on weekends, when I theoretically have more time.
> 
> I fully reserve the right to double back on what I have posted and change typos/grammar/sentence structure/major plot points/characterization and pretty much anything I notice or change my mind about later. Please don't yell at me for this, because it hurts all three of my feelings.
> 
> This is unbeta'ed, so all mistakes both glaring and subtle were mine to make.
> 
> The wonderful artwork in the cover pictures belong to [Fxckingunicorn](http://fxckingunicorn.tumblr.com/) and [Youngandmadeof](http://youngandmadeof.tumblr.com/) respectively, who are both super talented and you should check out their other stuff!

 

Harry lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling of his room. A troubled mind always seemed to weigh more heavily in the dark hours of the night.

He knew he was incredibly fortunate as a commoner to have a room completely to himself, a luxury reserved almost exclusively to the nobility, but he wished right now he shared his room with someone else so that he could sneak into their bed for a cuddle.

With a deep sigh, Harry threw back his warm winter blankets and climbed out of bed. He would have to be up in a few hours anyway, and if he wasn’t getting any sleep either way he may as well make himself productive.

After lighting a lantern using the coals from his stoked fireplace, he shrugged on a pair of trousers and a loose collared shirt over his white undershirt. He brushed his teeth and washed his face in the cold water basin on his dresser, moving quietly so as not to disturb his mother and stepfather in the next room over, or his sister down the hall. He added shoes and socks to the ensemble, but forgoed the standard vest and jacket of the usual city attire. They would only be ruined in the kitchen, and he hated how they restricted his movement in any sense.

Once he was presentable, Harry covered his lantern and made his way silently down the hallway that led to the stairs, following them down into the family bakery. He slipped quietly past the main storefront and through the connecting passageway into the kitchen.

Harry paused a moment with a contented sigh as he reached the empty room, still encased in darkness and silence, so different from its usual daytime noise and activity. Although modest by most city bakery standards, the kitchen still seemed huge to Harry, who had grown up in much shabbier conditions in the neighbouring kingdom of Badu. The bad living conditions there had been the least of the dark times Harry had endured with his mother and sister in his grim homeland, but entering the perfectly organised open kitchen was a reminder of how far they had come. It still sent a thrill of happiness and satisfaction through him every time, all these years later.

A wave of melancholia swept through him almost immediately after, but Harry purposefully set the moment aside and started to get to work. Using his handheld lantern he first lit the sconces on the wall, then the numerous fireplaces inside both the stone ovens and the cast iron oven, the latter of which stood in proud prominence by the rear door near the main stove.

The oven had been an expensive purchase at the start of the year, but was already proving a sound investment as it heated far more quickly than the conventional stone ovens, as well as having more room inside for multiple cooking racks. This meant that Harry and his fellow bakers were able to cook bread and pastries more quickly, which in turn provided a greater turnaround.

Harry had heard that in the palace they had a fire mage who could heat stones to any temperature, and even retain the heat at that level without them cooling over time at no extra effort. It sounded like a fairy tale when one had to fuel and stoke multiple fires manually several times throughout the day. Harry supposed it would also save a great deal of expense when it came to purchasing such things as wood and coal too.

However Harry thought the flowers engraved on the metal sides of the cast iron oven added much needed character to the otherwise impersonal room, and to be honest he would probably chose the heavy appliance over fancy fire rocks any day of the week.

Once the fires were lit, he began to collect the ingredients required for the first day’s baking. He fetched the milk and eggs which had already been delivered to the back door, as well as the sugar, flour and his family’s secret yeast recipe from the pantry. His stepfather’s employees would arrive within the next hour or so to begin baking the plain bread loaves needed for the day, but Harry always started with the pastries the tradesmen purchased on their way to work.

The men would shuffle sleepily into the bakery in the predawn light, lunch boxes in hand and sand in their eyes, looking to purchase something hot and high in energy to start their long days on the right foot.

Usually Harry made currant buns or strudels from whichever fruit happened to be in season, but not today. After he had mixed his initial ingredients together and left the dough aside to proof, he went back to the pantry and pulled out the large wedge of cheese from the rear shelf.

Although Harry’s cheesy pull-apart bread was a huge favourite, he rarely made it. The process was both fiddly and required extensive effort, which often left him too tired to help bake the rest of the day’s necessities. Today however, giving loads of dough a thorough thumping was exactly what Harry felt like doing.

It would help him take his mind off the decision he had to make.

Half an hour before the sun began to rise the other bakers began to wander into the kitchen, yawning sleepily. Harry already had 3 racks of cheesy pull-apart bread laid out on the benches to cool, ready for their first round of customers to arrive once the sun was up.

If his stepfather’s employees thought it unusual how much work had already been done that morning, they didn’t mention it. They simply nodded at Harry as they tied their aprons and got to work.

All three men - Mark, Daniel and Troy - who worked for Robin Styles had been with the bakery for over four years, but Harry rarely spoke with them outside a quiet greeting or answering a direct inquiry about their shared work.

It was hard to make small talk or find common ground when you were a Truthsayer.

Every word that came from Harry’s mouth was the truth, and it was astonishing how many white lies one was expected to tell in the name of polite conversation. A question as innocuous as ‘How are you?’ became fraught with propriety pitfalls, and Harry had learnt very young that although people claim to praise an honest man, they rarely wished to actually hear the truth.

When Harry’s family had fled to the kingdom of Vamor and the much more lenient magic laws found there, Harry had already cultivated a knack of being able to lie without actually doing so. He phrased his words carefully in a way that would not be false, but could still give people the wrong impression, or to infer a different meaning from his words.

Such a deliberate way of speaking slowed Harry’s speech however, to the point of ridicule. It was much easier instead not to say much of anything at all. He had a few friends in the city that he felt comfortable enough to open up a bit around, but work at the bakery usually kept him too busy to socialise for long hours anyway.

The men at his family’s bakery had long ago come to terms with his verbal reticence and treated him no differently for it, for which he was profoundly grateful.

Today especially, Harry wished to be left alone with his thoughts.

Two nights ago Harry had dreamt of a messenger arriving from the far northern kingdom of Svell, requesting an audience with the Crown Prince, Louis William Tomlinson III, in regards to an urgent matter from the highlands. The meeting had been granted, and when the Crown Prince had approached the messenger, the bearded man had pulled a hidden weapon from his tunic and stabbed the Prince directly in the heart.

Prince Louis had died instantly and Harry had awoken with a strangled gasp, unable to close his eyes for the rest of the night without seeing the same horrific scene play out over and over again. The surprise on the Prince’s face, the blood staining the expensive carpeting, the light leaving those familiar blue eyes.

Familiar because although Harry may be the only one aware of it, he and the Crown Prince were actually well acquainted.

“Alright Hazza!” a voice called out, pulling Harry from his thoughts. He turned to look towards the large open window on the far side of the kitchen, used for preventing the room from getting too stuffy and for enticing potential customers towards the bakery with its delicious smells. The windowsill was deliberately higher than usual to prevent anyone from reaching into the kitchen to help themselves, but Harry could still see the brightly grinning face peering in.

Louis must be standing on his tiptoes.

Harry was unable to help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he wiped his hands on a nearby cloth and crossed the room to the window.

Louis William Tomlinson III, Crown Prince to the Royal Kingdom of Valor and first born son to Her Royal Majesty, Queen Johannah of Poulston, first of her name, stood in the dirty alleyway behind the Styles Bakery and looked absolutely delighted by the fact. No one who looked at the dirty, poorly dressed and scruffy street lad standing by the bakery window would ever mistake him for the heir to the throne, but Harry knew better.

Harry knew the truth.

“You’re up earlier than usual,” he responded to Louis’ greeting, smiling shyly in response to the Prince’s’ obvious happiness to see him. The sun had finally risen into the sky, but only just. The predawn light had reluctantly given way to sunshine, but shadows still lingered in the corners of the city streets.

Louis snorted in a most ungentlemanly fashion.

“No idea what you’re on about,” he scoffed, mischief twinkling in his blue eyes. “Always up with the sun, I am! Important to greet the day and all that, right?”

His lower city accent was flawless, and as Harry grinned in response to the obvious joke (Louis rarely appeared in the city streets before noon) and shook his head in mock exasperation, he couldn’t help but marvel yet again at Louis’ superb acting skills.

“Watch out for his hands, Harry,” Mark grumbled good naturedly, lifting a tray of scones deliberately out of reach from the window. Louis made an exaggerated wounded noise as Harry hid his smile.

‘Light-fingered Lou’ was the scourge of the market stalls in the city, able to steal wares right out from under a vendor’s nose. The street kids loved him because he always shared what he stole, especially when it came to food. The vendors all yelled and swore at him, but Harry knew that they all secretly believed that he gave them good luck - Harry also knew that this was because Louis managed to sneak more money into the shops and stalls during his thieving expeditions than the stolen goods were worth. This meant that the vendors never lost any profit from his antics and in fact sometimes even benefited from them.

The thieving prince who secretly paid for the food he shared with others was a concept that Harry had spent many hours trying to wrap his head around. The fact that no one else had a clue about it was even more astounding.

Louis’ reputation preceded him however, and he often was on the receiving end of far more uncivilized comments than Mark’s.

“How’s that for a slap in the face?” Louis huffed indignantly in response to Mark’s inference, his amused expression belying his aggravated tone. “Completely unappreciated, I am!”

Harry wanted to tell him that _he_ appreciated Louis and all the unnoticed good deeds he did, but he couldn’t do that without revealing that he knew Louis’ true identity. He wanted to tell Louis that he was glad he had stopped by, but the dread from his precognitive dream kept the words from passing his lips.

Skies above, he just wanted to tell Louis how much he valued their strange and brief friendship but he couldn’t even do that either, because he wasn’t sure he knew how to without also giving away that he suspected it was about to end.

Well, more than suspected, really.

The moment Harry had awoken from his dream, he had known that inaction was not an option, not if Louis’ life was on the line. But revealing the danger would lead to awkward questions that Harry would be unable to lie about and his secret would be revealed.

By Valorian law all citizens with magical ability were required to report to the palace, where if their skill was deemed useful then they were sworn into service for the rest of their lives. A weekly wage was sent to family members to pay for work rendered (and also as a means of compensation), but those ‘recruited’ then served in the palace until the end of their days. Although indentured servitude seemed a harsh sentence for those who had no choice in their magical genetics, Harry knew it could be far worse - in Badu anyone who displayed the slightest hint of magic was executed immediately.

Still, although servitude was better than an instant death sentence, Harry loved his life in the bakery and had spent the last two days trying to come to terms with the repercussions of his decision. It was hard to accept that he would probably never be able to bake in this kitchen again, to wave and smile shyly at the regular customers who called out to him, and to have to say goodbye to his friends.

Worst of all, he would be forced to leave his beloved family.

The price of saving Louis’ life would be Harry’s freedom; although it was a choice with only a single outcome that Harry could live with, that didn’t make the decision any easier to make.

In the end, Harry said none of the things crowding his mind and sitting on the tip of his tongue.

“I made something for you,” he said instead, smiling at the way Louis’ eyes lit up in response.  Harry supposed it didn’t matter how noble your bloodline was, everyone liked getting presents.

He picked up one of the cheesy pull-apart breads that he had baked that morning and specifically set aside for Louis, and with a glance around at the other men in the kitchen, quickly ducked out the back door to join the other lad in the alley. He had expected Louis to show up in the afternoon like he usually did, but it wouldn’t hurt to talk with him now instead.

Louis beamed when Harry handed him the bread, practically snatching it out of Harry’s hands and giving the food an improper and deeply sensual sniff.

“Is this one of your famous cheesy things?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. He didn’t wait for Harry to answer before tearing off a large piece and stuffing the whole bit in his mouth, moaning obscenely in appreciation and causing Harry to blush.

Harry was certain Louis’ behaviour in the palace was a lot more restrained than the carefree silliness with which he carried on in the city streets, and he felt yet another pang at something he would lose once he delivered his warning.

However he couldn’t even savour this brief final moment as he spotted Liam, a member of the Royal Guard and Louis’ bodyguard in disguise when they were running loose around the city slums, coming around the corner at the end of the alleyway. Liam spotted his charge and Harry knew by his expression that Harry’s already limited time with Louis was about to end abruptly.

“Lou!” Liam bellowed with that familiar blend of annoyance and fond exasperation which almost permanently coloured his tone of voice. “You’ve got five seconds to get your arse back here now! I told you we’re too busy for this today!”

Even in his obvious aggravation, Liam was still polite enough to smile and nod at Harry.

“Oh shit,” Louis grimaced. “Sorry Haz, I gotta go. Thanks for the thing!” He turned to leave, but Harry quickly reached out and caught his hand.

“Please wait,” he said, flushing slightly at his daring. Although Harry had seen plenty of people touch Louis while he was in his street lad disguise, either with a friendly pat on the back or a hug or a handshake, Harry had never been brave enough to do so himself. It had simply felt too forward to touch a member of royalty in that manner.

From the look of utter astonishment on Louis’ face right now, it seemed he had noticed Harry’s physical reluctance.

“I need to tell you something important,” Harry continued, quickly letting go of Louis’ hand now that he had recaptured his attention and he wasn’t about to immediately disappear.

Louis frowned, concern wrinkling his brow. “What-”

“Lou!” Liam bellowed. “We gotta go!”

“Hold your fucking horses, you bloody banshee!” Louis turned away from Harry to yell at Liam. “Give me a fucking second, alright?”

Skies above, half the neighborhood was going to show up in a minute to see what all the noise was about at this rate. Harry spotted Mark, Daniel and Troy out of the corner of his eye, peering through the window curiously.

“Don’t trust the messenger!” Harry blurted, trying to keep his voice down but still convey the urgency of his words. Louis turned back to stare at him. “A messenger is going to come tomorrow,” Harry elaborated quickly, stumbling slightly over the words in his haste to get them out before Liam came striding down the alleyway and dragged Louis away by his hair. “Just, don’t trust him, okay? He’s not what he seems.”

“LOU! Come ON!”

“ALRIGHT!” Louis yelled back. He cast one last apologetic smile back at Harry before turning and running down the alleyway towards Liam, who scolded him loudly as they took off around the corner.

Harry was left standing alone, his heart in his shoes.

He had spent the last two days trying to come to terms with the repercussions of his upcoming warning to Louis, but it had never occurred to him that he might actually fail to deliver that warning.

Had his words been enough? Would Louis understand their significance?

Harry should have elaborated more, but he hadn’t wanted to go into too much detail with other people nearby. His fellow bakers were even now still watching him curiously through the window as they kneaded dough.

Shit.

Should he chase after Louis and make sure he _really_ understood what Harry had been trying to tell him? No, it was too late - he would never catch up to Liam and Louis, who spent their days running everywhere, as opposed to Harry who stayed indoors baking most of his days.

Could he send a message to the palace? He had no contacts there and didn’t know anyone other than Louis - who would undoubtedly have his mail routinely intercepted and read. A letter about a precognitive dream would be dismissed as rubbish, and would never reach the Prince. Harry couldn’t even request an audience, as he certainly wasn’t important enough to meet with the Crown Prince of the Realm. Even if he was important enough, he most assuredly wouldn’t be admitted before tomorrow.

“Everything alright, Harry?” Robin had come out to see what all the noise was about.

Harry rubbed at his face with both hands. He would have to trust to fate, and Louis’ quick and clever mind. He would have to trust that Louis had listened to him.

“I hope so,” he replied with an unhappy sigh, before turning and following his stepfather back into the bakery.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has always kept his magical ability to know truth from falsehood hidden from everyone but his family, lest someone use it against him or worse, against others. But what even his family don't know is that Harry sometimes also dreams things that are true, whether they have happened yet or not. When he has a precognitive dream about the Prince of the Realm being murdered, Harry knows he must do all he can to prevent it from happening - even if it means revealing his secret and costing him his freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A WIP!! The reasoning behind my decision to post a story in progress, which I never ever ever do, can be found [here](http://lainy122.tumblr.com/post/155198901911/i-have-a-confession-to-make). I will attempt to update this fic as often as possible, but life tends to get in the way with stuff so chances are much more likely this will be updated on weekends, when I theoretically have more time.
> 
> I fully reserve the right to double back on what I have posted and change typos/grammar/sentence structure/major plot points/characterization and pretty much anything I notice or change my mind about later. Please don't yell at me for this, because it hurts all three of my feelings.
> 
> This is unbeta'ed, so all mistakes both glaring and subtle were mine to make.

The next morning Harry awoke slowly, restlessness gnawing in the back of his mind from the moment he opened his eyes. He had finally slept the night through, too exhausted from his insomnia the previous two nights to do much else, but his anxiety over the day’s possibility left him far from rested. He moved through the morning in a distracted haze, so much so that his mother and sister began to exchange looks across the bakery counter.

“Is there anything you want to talk about, love?” Anne, asked gently. Anne and Gemma were both very good at asking Harry questions without trapping him into answers, allowing him to answer or not as he chose. Such a small thing to be so grateful for, yet Harry never took it for granted. He had thought it would be yet another thing he would lose when he was shipped off to the palace, but it had never occurred to him that the alternative might be even worse.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” he said, offering his mother a small smile to hopefully mitigate her worry.

“Well, okay.” The wry smile Anne gave him back let him know that she wasn’t fooled by his evasive answer, but she gave him a warm sideways hug regardless. “I’m always here if you have anything you’d like get off your chest,” she added.

“I know, Mum.” He returned her hug. “Thanks.”

Harry spent his day going through the motions, his attention focused almost completely upon listening for the City’s bell tower to ring out. The bells only rang for royal weddings, royal births, and royal deaths, and Harry found himself holding his breath at times thinking he had heard them start to ring.

Usually when he had a dream that forewarned a future event, Harry was rather fatalistic about what would come to pass - that what would happen would happen, for good or ill. He had never tried to prevent something from happening before, and he had no frame of reference for if his interference would even work. He had no one to ask, yet he had never been so invested in an answer.

As the sun began to finally set, the shadows lengthening and the bakery serving its last customers, Harry shut himself in his room and braced himself for something he had pointedly been avoiding all day.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to fortify himself.

“The Prince is alive and unharmed.”

Harry’s eyes shot open as the words passed his lips. He had said them! They were true! He wanted to jump up and down in joy, but his legs gave out in relief instead and he slumped onto his bedspread.

In Harry’s dream, the attack had definitely been during daylight hours; now that the sun had set and Louis apparently remained unharmed, Harry could conclude that the opportunity had passed. The attack had been prevented.

His warning had been heeded.

Harry was so deep in thought about the implications of that realisation that he almost jumped out of his skin when someone tapped on his door.

“Tea’s ready, Harry,” Gemma said through the closed door. “Did you want to join us, or else Mum said she could bring something up?”

Harry mentally shook himself, trying to get his ricocheting emotions under control.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes, thank you,” he said, striving to keep his tone as even as possible. He didn’t think he had fooled his sister any more than he had fooled his mother, but Gemma just made an agreeable noise before heading back downstairs.

Harry took a moment to work through everything going on in his head.

If Louis had survived the attack then he would have to realise that Harry had been telling the truth about the fraudulent messenger, and had therefore somehow possessed prior knowledge of the deception. He would come back to the bakery looking for answers, and Harry would be unable to lie to him.

The penalty for failing to present a magical ability to the court upon discovery (or upon permanent migration, as Harry’s had been) was a public flogging.

Harry was hoping that Louis would not be cross enough for that, but depending on how many other people were aware of the situation then he may not have a choice in the matter. Of all people the Prince could not be seen being lenient with the law, and Louis may have to give the order regardless of his personal feelings on the matter.

Harry stood slowly, ignoring his trembling lip and carefully brushed flour from his trousers. It would be worth it, he thought abruptly. Even if he was flogged, even if he was taken from his family and the life he loved, even if he was thrown in gaol, it would be worth it.

Louis was alive. Harry himself had said so; he had spoken the words aloud, so they must be true..

Harry headed downstairs to join his family for dinner. Tomorrow would bring what it would bring, and there was no sense in tying himself up in knots about it before it happened. He had no control over tomorrow’s events.

Everything would depend completely on Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was just a short one! I'm hoping most chapters will be longer than this, but tbh I needed the satisfaction and dopamine hit from posting this XD Currently behind Janowrimo schedule, but doing better than I thought, so yay! Here's to small victories! *waves flag*


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning uncertainty loomed over Harry as he dressed in the predawn hours, but he refused to have another hopeless day like yesterday. He wasn’t sure how Louis would react to Harry’s knowledge of the assassination attempt or what conclusions he would draw from it, but if this was to be Harry’s last day with his family, he would cherish every moment.

He was careful to downplay the significance he was placing behind each of the everyday tasks that he had been doing for years in order not to arouse suspicion in his family, but it was harder than he expected to deal with his emotional reactions. Fortunately the bakery happened to be quite busy that day, and the increased business prevented anyone from noticing if he paused a moment longer than usual over a nondescript display case or a completely unremarkable cooking rack.

Harry was glad that he was able to keep his emotional state hidden; not only because it kept everyone from worrying, but also he would feel quite foolish if nothing ended up changing. He had no guarantee that Louis would even act on his suspicions of Harry, no matter what they happened to be. He may just decide to do nothing and let the incident pass unnoticed.

Not knowing if his life was about to change irrevocably was incredibly stressful, and Harry’s magic had been particularly unhelpful, not even allowing him peace of mind about the matter.

Several times Harry had tried to speak aloud different statements to ascertain which way the cards would fall, such as “Louis is not going to have me flogged,” or “Louis will let me remain with my family,” but every time the words refused to leave his mouth.

Harry suspected that it wasn’t that the statements he was trying to speak were lies exactly, but rather everything was so uncertain that they had no way of being true. He imagined Louis himself didn’t know what he was going to do, so Harry had no choice but to go about his day and wait for his world to implode.

It only took until lunchtime.

The first indication that reached the kitchen suggesting things might be amiss was the increase in noise out in the front room where Robin, Anne and Gemma served the customers. The people who had been shopping in the bakery began talking to each other excitedly, the already noisy store increasing quickly in volume until it became obvious that something out of the ordinary was happening.

Mark, Daniel and Troy wandered curiously towards the front, leaving their baked goods in various states of completion behind them. Harry, however, kept his eyes down and continued working. He finished arranging a sheet of pastries on a rack and began to glaze them methodically, suspecting that they might be the last confections he ever made in this kitchen.

“The Prince is in the City!” someone exclaimed from up the front, loud enough for even Harry to hear on the far side of the kitchen in the back of the building. “The Prince is coming this way!”

Harry’s heart jumped in his chest, although his eyes never left his work and his hands remained steady. At least now he could rule out a few of the scenarios that had been swimming around his head.

Louis was not going to let this pass noticed, and he was also apparently not going to do it discreetly. He could have snuck back to see Harry while wearing his street lad disguise, but instead he had chosen to stride through town in a way that attracted a great deal of attention.

Obviously Louis did not want them to be on equal footing for this conversation.

It did not bode well for their friendship, but Harry tried to tell himself not to draw any hasty conclusions just yet. As unlikely as it seemed right now, this may not yet end in disaster.

In what seemed only moments later, a troop of Royal Guards came sweeping into the bakery, checking corners and clearing the way for the catalyst that would change Harry’s life forever.

Liam was among the guards that barreled through the kitchen and set up sentries in the alleyway, but he refused to catch Harry’s eye as he marched past, and he looked so different in his uniform with the Royal Guard’s insignia emblazoned across his chest that Harry couldn’t bring himself to initiate a greeting.

Harry ducked his head against the flurry of activity, carefully sliding his final rack of pastries into the cast iron oven with the beautifully engraved flowers, and stood there for a moment, not quite sure what to do.

“Make sure no one disturbs us.”

Louis’ commanding voice was almost unrecognisable without its usual lower city accent, but Harry would know it anywhere.

He turned around slowly, even as the remaining guards quickly exited the room, shutting the doors behind them.

Louis William Tomlinson III, Crown Prince to the Royal Kingdom of Valor and first born son to Her Royal Majesty, Queen Johannah of Poulston, stood in the Styles Bakery kitchen in all his regal glory. He was resplendent in expensive velvet material that hugged his trim frame in a way that his street clothes never had, snug trousers complementing an elaborately embroidered blue doublet with gold stitching that served to bring out the blue in his eyes and draw the eye to the glinting crown that sat in his perfectly groomed brown hair.

Even knowing that they were the same people, Harry found himself struggling to reconcile the imposing stranger standing in front of him with the mischievous street lad who had befriended him all those months ago.

Even Louis’ eyes were different, cold and hard when Harry was used to them being warm and happy.

“Your Highness.” Harry bowed politely after an incredibly long, awkward silence.

“How long have you known?” Louis’ expressionless face gave away nothing, and his casual tone was so impersonal he might as well have been describing the weather. "About me. How long have you known who I was?"

Harry blinked, caught off guard by the question. He hadn’t expected that to be Louis’ first point of focus. Harry himself had been so worried about the assassination attempt, he hadn’t considered the fact that Louis might find another part of this whole mess more important.

“Just under a year,” Harry admitted quietly after a slight hesitation.

Louis’ regal mask didn’t just falter at his answer, it disappeared entirely. Harry was treated to the same flummoxed expression Louis had worn the first time Harry had bested him at cards, early into their burgeoning friendship.

“You knew the _whole time_?” Clearly that was not the answer Louis had been expecting.

Harry could only give a small shrug in response, not sure what he could say to mend this situation, or if he even could. He could see Louis rolling the information around in his head, going back over all the interactions they had ever had, remembering them again in this new light, but Harry had no idea what to say to improve Louis’ perspective.

The way the Prince’s expression closed off and slipped back into his blank regal mask did not inspire Harry with confidence.

“You were born in Badu,” Louis finally said, staring hard at Harry, who nodded slowly. That was a matter of public record and his family had never tried to hide it, but he didn't like that Louis was bringing it up now. “I’ve been going over it in my head, but I can’t see any way that helping me would benefit Badu. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Harry didn’t say anything, because they both knew that was true. The Emperor of Badu believed that everyone in the magic-infested kingdoms surrounding his country were heathens, and would dearly love political unrest to erupt in Valor.

Harry kept his mouth closed, waiting to see where Louis’ thinking would take this conversation, but Louis narrowed his eyes at Harry’s lack of response.

“Are you a spy looking to switch sides?” He demanded.

Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up towards his forehead without his permission. Louis thought he was a _spy_?

“I’m not a spy, for Badu or anyone else. Louis-” Harry took a step closer to Louis through habit, unconsciously trying to appeal to his friend, but froze when Louis took a quick step back. He immediately looked annoyed with himself, as though he was cross that he had given away even that small snippet of physical information, before his face once again smoothed itself into a carefully blank expression.

Harry felt like he had been slapped in the face.

For the first time, he began to realise that his actions went beyond breaking the law - he had broken Louis’ trust. Louis’ instinctive reaction told him that louder than words.

“I promise Louis, I’m not a spy.”

Harry didn’t try to move closer again, but he willed Louis to believe him with all his might.

“No?” Louis raised an imperial eyebrow, an expression that seemed so much more exaggerated in his current attire than when Harry had seen him doing the same to Liam down at the local inn.

“Are you going to make me stand here all day asking questions instead of telling me what I want to know?” he continued. “Because it certainly isn’t going to improve my disposition.”

Louis’ inflection even more than his words were throwing Harry for a loop. It was so strange to listen to him speak so differently, to hear the word ‘disposition’ fall effortlessly from his lips as though he said it everyday. His voice was clipped and precise and only his slightly short tone gave any indication that beneath his regal facade lurked true aggravation.

It was so strange to listen to him speak so differently, to hear the word ‘disposition’ fall effortlessly from his lips as though he said it everyday. Harry tried desperately not to let himself be distracted by it.

“I’m not trying to make you angry,” Harry said, trying to stay calm in the face of Louis’ overly reserved displeasure.

“Oh, so that’s just an added bonus?” Louis retorted before he could help himself and for the first time since he had stepped through the door, Harry recognised his friend standing in front of him.

“Lou-” Harry tried to begin, but Louis cut him off with an angry growl.

“Don’t you Lou me!” Louis snapped, dropping pretense altogether. “You’ve apparently known who I was this _whole time_ Harry, are you serious? You say you’re not a spy, but how else could you possibly have worked it out? There are _three people_ who know I go into the city, and I’m one of them!  It certainly wasn’t from me, and the other two I trust with more than my life, I trust them with my fucking _crown_!”

It was hard not to get upset in the wake of Louis’ anger, hard to focus when all Harry wanted to do was beg for forgiveness and wipe that terribly betrayed look off of Louis’ face.

At least the Prince swore just as much as his street counterpart, Harry noticed with grim humour.

“And then you go around warning me about bloody assassins while looking so fucking _sincere_ ,” Louis barrelled on, oblivious to Harry’s inner turmoil, “what the hell am I supposed to think?”

“My family left Badu,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice even and knowing that he was failing spectacularly because he felt like he could barely breathe, “because anyone who does magic there is executed.”

His words hung in the air between them, echoing so loudly in his own head that Harry would almost swear they were doing so aloud. He couldn’t read anything from Louis’ expressionless face, that deliberately blank look Harry was beginning to realise was as much part of the Prince before him as the expensive clothes and the crown upon his head.

“I’m not a spy, Louis.” Harry tried again, quieter than before, willing the message to get through.

“Magic.” Louis rolled the word around his mouth as he watched Harry closely, a calculated look stealing across his features. Harry had seen the same look in Louis’ eyes when he spotted a particularly challenging vendor in the markets, and was working out how best to pick it apart.

Harry didn’t particularly like being on the receiving end of it now.

“You can see the future?” Louis sounded pretty skeptical, which was fair since the number of true Oracles in the entire whole world’s history could be counted on a single hand. There had been rumours of a gifted diviner in the far south decades ago, but she had died before Harry was even born.

Harry supposed the time for subtlety was long gone.

“I’m a Truthsayer.”

He took a deep breath, not quite sure how he felt once the truth had left his mouth. He had never actually said the words aloud before; it was both liberating and terrifying. It felt so strange to finally verbally label this thing which had controlled so much of his life, to actually define such a huge part of who he was with such a simple word.

Louis squinted at him as though trying to visually confirm what Harry was saying, or perhaps trying recall if he knew anything about what a Truthsayer even was. 

“Truthsayers can tell when someone is being false,” he said after a moment, and Harry felt a warmth rush through him. Without realising it, Louis was using a technique he had taught Harry himself - when you have no idea what the fuck was going on, or you need to play for time, stall with statements you know are true.

“I know when someone is lying,” Harry agreed. “And I know when someone is being deceitful.”

“Truthsayers also can’t lie.” Louis pointed out, watching Harry’s face closely. All the warmth that flooded Harry a moment ago vanished instantly.

There it was.

Once Louis realised the extent of Harry’s ability and knew that he couldn’t lie about it, there was no way Harry would be allowed to remain at the bakery. But there was nothing for it now - Harry knew how relentless Louis was once he had a hold of something, and there was no way he was just going to let this go now Harry had given him a glimpse behind the mystery hanging between them.

“Only the truth can pass my lips.” Harry hedged. He didn’t say that he couldn’t lie, because he was able to mislead people into believing something that wasn’t true - had in fact, done it a number of times during his life. But to say it aloud was even more nerve-wracking than admitting to his magical talent; he felt so vulnerable right now, he was certain Louis could see right through him.

“How did you know about the messenger?” Louis surprised him by changing the direction of the conversation, by asking the one question that was most difficult for Harry to answer. “Did he come into the bakery and you heard his lies?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, trying to think of the best way to explain. Surprisingly, though he still watched Harry closely, Louis gave him time to put his thoughts in order, which was more patience than Harry would have given him credit for.

“Two months ago one of our regular customers came in,” Harry began. Louis raised his eyebrows slightly at the seemingly random statement but didn’t interrupt, much to Harry’s relief. “My mother asked after her husband, you know, making small talk. And this lady said she was a bit sad because she didn’t get to see him much, ‘cos he was working a lot lately.”

Harry paused, trying to work the story out in his head, but Louis had always been quick off the mark.

“She was lying?” he guessed.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “She believed what she was saying, so it wasn’t a lie.”

Louis frowned slightly, obviously not quite following. But as he opened his mouth to ask, he suddenly went still, his eyes widening.

“But I knew what she said wasn’t true.” Harry confirmed the conclusion Louis had obviously reached, his heart sinking slightly at Louis’ expression.

“Harry…” Louis breathed, always so damn clever, picking up the implications of Harry’s revelation. The sheer tactical advantage of knowing that your opponent was lying even if they _themselves_ didn’t know, was almost beyond estimation.

“I thought about telling her,” Harry interrupted, cutting Louis off before he could say anything else. There was more to the story and having come so far, Harry was desperate to tell Louis everything, to finally get it all out in the open.

He didn’t want any secrets between them anymore.

“I thought that she deserved to know. About her husband. She deserved to know what he was doing.”

Harry paused to take another fortifying breath. He had never spoken this much at once to anyone besides his family, and he was deeply out of practice.

Thankfully, Louis didn’t interrupt, just watched him intently.

“The next day, I was going to tell her.” Even though Harry spoke softly, every word seemed to carry in the quiet of the still kitchen. “But that night, I had a dream that the woman’s husband was killed in a terrible accident at his work and the company gave her a lot of money in compensation.”

Harry stared down at where his hands were clasped in front of him, fingers twisting nervously, unable to look at Louis as he continued.

“If I had told her about her husband, I know they would’ve had a fight and maybe even separated before the accident. The company wouldn’t’ve paid her anything if they weren't together. And she had two kids to look after.”

Harry untwisted his fingers, then twisted them back together. He had never told anyone about this, not even his mother.

“So I didn’t say anything.” He couldn’t bring himself to look up. “A week later, her husband was killed in a freak carriage collision while running an errand for his manager. His widow was devastated, but she received enough money from the company to look after her family for the rest of their lives.”

His story finished, Harry finally risked a glance at Louis and was shocked to find the Prince was standing much closer than he had been when Harry first began talking.

Louis stared at Harry with wide eyes, barely an arm’s length away. The moment stretched out impossibly long between them, and still Louis didn’t say anything.

“Sometimes I dream things,” Harry said quietly, watching Louis’ face for the smallest flicker of expression. “Sometimes they've already happened, and sometimes they haven't happened yet, but they’re always true.”

Louis swore loudly and before Harry could react, he threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, pulling him close into a hug. Harry froze, too shocked from the proximity and unexpectedness of the gesture to react immediately. When he could finally make his limbs work, he tentatively wrapped his own arms around Louis’ back.

“Fuck, that’s how you knew about the bloody assassin,” Louis said into Harry’s shoulder. Harry tried to nod, but Louis probably couldn’t even tell from how close he was pressed against Harry’s chest. “And you still warned me, even though you knew…”

He trailed off, finally pulling back and staring up at Harry with wide eyes.

“Even though you knew that I would find out your secret,” he whispered, staring directly into Harry’s eyes.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat.

There was more than one reason he had never initiated physical contact with Louis while he had been in disguise, and only a small part part of that had to do with respect for the Crown. With Louis standing so close, and decked out in his magnificent outfit without even a hair out of place, all Harry could see was things he couldn’t have, shouldn’t want.

He deliberately took a step back out of Louis’ embrace, even though it felt like he was crushing something inside himself to do so.

“I believe your life is more important, Your Highness.” The moment the words left his lips, Harry wished he could grab them and stuff them back inside his mouth, because Louis’ expression snapped shut like a steel trap.

Never had the truth tasted so bitter in his mouth.

Just like that, Harry’s friend disappeared from in front of him and the impersonal Prince from earlier stood in his place. An angonizingly long silence hung heavy between them as they stared at each other. After what seemed an eternity, Louis drew himself to his full height.

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” he said formally, “all persons with magical aptitude must present themselves to the Crown for appraisal. Consider yourself appraised.” His tone brooked no argument. “You are to enter into my service, effective immediately. Liam will remain this afternoon and help you collect any personal items you may wish to bring with you, but you are expected to report to the Royal Palace before sundown this evening. Is that understood?”

Harry was biting his lips together too hard to be able to answer verbally, so he had to settle for a jerky nod. Louis hesitated for half a moment before turning and striding out of the kitchen.

He did not look back.

Harry buried his face in his hands and wondered how it could feel so awful to be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I've been trying to write a bit ahead before posting, but I'm not sure it's really a sure fire strategy. I guess we'll wait and see! D:


	4. Chapter 4

As Louis had dictated, Liam remained behind in the bakery as the Prince and his entourage swept back out into the city. He followed Harry silently up the stairs to the living quarters to help him collect his personal belongings, tactfully not mentioning Harry’s wet eyes and unsteady breathing.

When Harry reached his room he looked around, feeling completely overwhelmed. For all that he had been mentally preparing himself to leave his beloved home, now that it came down to choosing things to take with him, he found himself at a loss. How did one fit an entire life into a suitcase?

Did he even have a suitcase?

Liam stood aside, apparently willing to let Harry dither uncertainly, fluttering between his chest of drawers and his dresser fitfully. It wasn’t until Harry began to pull himself together and slowly started to pile photoframes and books onto his bedspread that Liam broke the silence.

“He didn’t tell me.”

The sudden noise made Harry startle slightly and he glanced up from his belongings, too lost in his own mind to be able to understand immediately what Liam was saying.

“About the assassin.” Liam elaborated, seeing the obvious confusion on Harry’s face. “He didn’t tell me. Then, when it happened…” He glanced down at his feet before moving away across the room to look out the window, studying the scene below and effectively concealing his expression from Harry, who had no idea what to say.

He could hear the truth in Liam’s words and desperately wanted to know what had happened, but he didn’t want to just come right out and ask. It seemed...boorish. So Harry said nothing, hoping that Liam would continue of his own accord.

“It was so fast,” Liam did finally continue after what seemed an age to Harry. “I knew I wasn’t going to get there in time. I knew...”

Despite their different stations in life, Harry liked to think he and Liam were still friends and it was painful to see him so shaken. But just as Harry moved closer to comfort him, Liam turned suddenly.

“Louis was wearing a chainmail vest.” Liam’s gaze was intense as it locked on Harry, who stood frozen next to him.  “He  _ hates  _ wearing that thing, I can never get him to wear it even when he  _ really-  _ but he was!” His eyes flickered between Harry’s, searching them. “And I know now it was because of you.”

He glanced down for a moment, before locking eyes with Harry again.

“I heard you talking and I know that like, he didn’t say thank you but I just. I wanted you know know that I am. So, so thankful.” Liam stepped into Harry’s space and clasped Harry’s shoulders tightly, staring into his face with such open sincerity Harry could do nothing but blink back. “ _ Thank you _ .”

And well, what does one say to that?

“You’re welcome.” Harry nodded awkwardly, patting Liam gingerly on the back. Then, because he couldn’t help but ask, “Um. You heard us talking?”

His heart dropped at the thought that both Louis’ guards and Harry’s family had been listening in on their entire conversation. Did  _ everyone  _ know his secret now? The thought made him break out in a panicked sweat.

“Yeah, sorry.” Liam made a rueful face, pulling back and stepping away. “I’m a mage. I was like, listening in.”

Harry felt like his brain backflipped in his skull, not even sure where to start with that statement.

There were two kinds of magic users in the world; those like Harry, who had an innate ability to manipulate the world around them through some sort of magical capacity. It was as natural to them as breathing, and no less fundamental to their existence.

The second kind were mages.

Mages were much more likely to be recruited into royal service, as they were able to completely control their magical talent, regardless of what it might be. Mages were fire-casters and rain summoners, earth movers and lightning tamers, bending the world around them to their will. Mages could turn their magic on and off whenever they wanted, unlike their unchecked counterparts who had no control over their magic at all.

To discover Liam was a mage was as unlikely as finding out that the pretty street lad who stole scones from the window sill but was still determined to be friends was actually the Crown Prince of the Realm.

On second thought, Harry wasn’t even sure why he was surprised.

“What can-” he started to ask before stopping abruptly, suddenly realising that Liam might be as secretive about his magic as Harry was for just as good a reason.

But Liam just smiled wryly, not seeming to mind.

“I can like, magically kind of cheat at stuff?” He seemed a bit embarrassed by the confession. “If I concentrate really hard on just one thing, I can do it loads better? Like for hearing, I can hear through walls and buildings and things as clear as if I was standing in the room.”

“Magical enhancement,” Harry surmised, his eyes wide. It suddenly made sense that Liam followed Louis wherever he went - if Liam put his magic into his muscles, for example, he could probably take down an elephant.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, Harry instantly wanted to know if it was true.

“You could beat up an elephant.”

Both Harry and Liam’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Wow, really?” Liam asked in disbelief, looking so thoroughly impressed with himself that Harry couldn’t help laughing.

“I’m sure Louis will get an elephant to practice on if you ask nicely enough,” Harry said, smiling when Liam looked even more delighted by this fact.

Harry’s good mood vanished however, when he turned and caught sight of his meager pile of belongings sitting on his bedspread.

“I own…” he trailed off as he tried to say ‘a suitcase’ but couldn’t form the words. He sighed disheartedly. “...nothing like a suitcase.”

“Louis’ll send people,” Liam said quietly, picking up on Harry’s mood shift. “To collect it all. So don’t like, worry about taking too much stuff. We can bring everything you want.”

Harry wanted to scream that pictures of his family were nothing compared to the real thing, but he swallowed the urge and took the statement as the small consolation it was offered to be.

There was no point in yelling or throwing a tantrum over the unfairness of it all - Harry had made the decision to warn Louis knowing full well what the consequences may be, and getting upset about it now wouldn’t solve anything.

But he still couldn’t help asking, “Do you know...do you know what’s going to happen?” He glanced at Liam. “To me?”

Liam rubbed at his stubble thoughtfully, not seeming to think it odd that Harry asked or view him as less for doing so as some might have. He simply treated the question with thoughtful consideration, and Harry was suddenly so grateful Louis had ordered him to say behind.

“I reckon with a trick as handy as yours, he’ll keep you secret and safe, like Niall. Hide you in plain sight, right? Pretend you’re his new valet, so you’ve got a reason to always be around.”

Harry nodded like he knew who Niall was or what a valet did. Secret sounded good though. It made sense that Louis would want to be discreet about Harry’s magic, although for probably very different reasons from why Harry always had. Still, realising that his secret would be secret a while longer was an incredible relief.

It also meant that Louis was unlikely to have Harry flogged, which was also a bonus.

A hesitant tap on the door made them both turn. Anne stood in the doorway, her eyes flicking from Harry to Liam and then to Harry’s belongings piled on the bed. Harry wasn’t sure if Liam noticed the shaking she tried to hide in her hands, or the strain around her eyes, but he still prudent enough to take his leave.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs, Harry.” He nodded at Anne before heading back down to the ground floor.

The moment he was out of earshot, Anne raced forward and wrapped Harry in a tight hug.

“Robin is watching the alleyway and Gemma is keeping an eye on the front,” she whispered into Harry’s ear. “I can distract the guard while you run for it and we can meet up outside the city.”

Harry wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, because of course his mother was already making escape plans. They hadn’t arrived in Valor on a wing and a prayer after all. His mother had always been smarter than most people would give her credit for.

But for all Anne’s cunning and tenacity and the love she had for her children, Harry knew that her words weren’t true.

“It’s alright, Mum,” he said, holding onto her tighter when she tried to pull away. “You guys have a good life here, and I knew this was going to happen.”

At that, Anne finally did manage to pull back to stare at him.

“Oh love,” she breathed, her eyes filling with tears. “Is that why you’ve been so…” she shook her head. “Why didn’t you  _ say _ ?”

“You know why,” he said quietly as he pulled her back into a hug. She let him, sniffling into his shoulder, not bothering to argue with him since they both knew he was right.

“Are you sure?” she whispered. Harry squeezed her tightly one last time before letting go to look her in the eye.

“I’m sure.”

Anne wiped at her eyes and gave him a wobbly smile.

“Well. Let’s help you pack, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bless you for reading this far. Good luck for the rest - for both you and me!


End file.
